“Hi. Everything’s fine. I haven’t spoken to you in a few days … three actually … I just, umm, wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m okay. How about you?” To me, the tone of his voice doesn’t appear to match his words.
“I’m doing okay.”
“I’m glad.”
Even though he’s being polite, he seems distant. Or maybe that’s just my paranoia. “So, what have you been up to?” I ask.
“Working. Same old same old.”
“What about tonight? Do you have any plans?” I chew nervously on one of my fingernails as I wait for his reply.
“I do actually.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’m going out with Lucas. It’s been a while since we’ve had a boys’ night out.”
“That’s great. You deserve it.” I mean it, but I’m still fighting back tears. “Well, have a good night.”
“I will. You too.”
I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him, but the words won’t come. “Bye.”
“Goodbye, Jem.” I hear his voice crack slightly as he speaks.
Why did that goodbye seem so final?
I head downstairs, my stomach churning. I feel panicked—I don’t want to lose him.
My parents have gone out to dinner. They invited me to come along, but I said no. They need their time alone; they have so much making up to do. My dad has been coming over every night for dinner, but only stays over on the weekends. I’m expecting an announcement any day, saying he’s moving back in. It’s plain to see how smitten they are, and it makes me so happy to see them together again.
I enter the kitchen and head straight for the fridge. I’m not even hungry, but I poke around inside. I end up making a coffee and settling on the sofa in front of the television. The dreaded feeling of loneliness, the one I felt when I first woke from my coma, settles deep in my gut. I don’t like this feeling one bit.
It’s around ten when I hear a car pull up outside, followed by a door closing. I walk towards the window to see who it is. I hope it’s Braxton, but I don’t think he’d turn up unannounced at this time of night. It’s probably just my parents returning from dinner.
I pull the curtain to the side and peer out just as a dark figure runs across the front lawn towards the kerb and hops into the passenger side of a car that’s parked there. A few moments later it drives away, disappearing into the night, and suddenly I feel uneasy because I didn’t recognise the car.
I head out into the hallway to check the front door is locked, and that’s when I notice the envelope on the floor. Someone must’ve slipped it under the door.
As soon as I pick it up and turn it over, I see Braxton’s handwriting. The fact that he didn’t knock, or want to say hello, does nothing to lift my mood.
After turning off the television and rinsing my mug in the sink, I head up to my room.
Letter nineteen…
Dearest Jemma,
As I sit here and ponder everything we once were, and everything we are today, I suddenly realise that this is not only the nineteenth letter, but also the last.
It’s uncanny that they’d end on this number. There’s no denying the number nineteen holds a special significance for us.
It was the nineteenth the day we met. A day that would change my life forever.
It was the nineteenth when we went on our first official date.
It was the nineteenth when we took our relationship to the next level, the day our bodies and hearts connected as one.
